Tampering
by Bobo's Donuts
Summary: Hermione Granger is, quite literally, plucked out of her own world and dropped unceremoniously into another. So considering, really, you could almost say she's in over her head. Almost. Set in DH, time travel. Not a romance fic. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Odds are anything you recognise belongs to the fantabulous JK Rowling, and the remainder ... yeah, the remainder's mine :) **

**A/N: I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while but didn't think I'd actually post it ... oh well. Here I am!  
><strong>**And, yeah, time travel, I know - how original. (sarcasm). I'll try to make it as little cliched as possible, but I'm not making any promises ... **

**JUST BEFORE YOU READ THE STORY:  
>* This is set, like, <em>after <em>they break into Gringotts in DH, but before they turn up at Hogwarts, or, indeed, Hogsmeade. It's in between. ****  
>* Secondly, I don't think this will be a romance fic; because no matter how much I love Sirius, I'm a die-hard RonHermione and I don't think I could bring myself to write anything else. Sorry :S **

**So now ... enjoy :) **

* * *

><p>Her breath came harsh and ragged as she dodged yet another curse fired from behind her. The girl cried out as her foot caught on a tree stump and she stumbled, but quickly righted herself and took off again, sprinting with an animalistic desperation rarely seen in human beings. Her hair flew behind her, snagging in twigs and leaves as she fled her pursuers, who continued to fire curses at random - most of which she dodged.<p>

All fears for the girl's companions had left her head once she had begun running, but now she remembered them and felt pain lurch in her chest that had nothing to do with the blood soaking her shirt. Two words bounced around in her head as she still ran as fast as her feet could take her, tripping and stumbling and every now and then firing a curse over her shoulder.

_Harry. Ron. _

She sucked in a gasp of air and swerved sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding a _Reductor_ that had been aimed at her back.

_Harry. Ron. _

She could feel blood trickling down her stomach, and she was farely sure the liquid matting her hair wasn't sweat, either.

_Harry. Ron. _

Another tree stump threatened to undo her but she managed to jump over it at the last minute, her shoelace now completely undone. She struggled not to let it slow her down. How ridiculous, she realised, would it be: to be caught by the Snatchers _again_, and all because she hadn't tied the double knot tight enough that morning when she got out of bed.

_Harry. Ron. _

She wouldn't last much longer. The girl could hear the Snatchers getting closer as her breathing became more laboured and her chest hurt more. Her legs strained and her feet ached and her lungs were on fire. She briefly wondered how much further the wood went. Maybe, just maybe, if she could make it to a town or a village ...

She skidded to an aprupt halt and felt the colour drain from her face and the little remaining air leave her lungs.

She was standing at the edge of a precipice, looking down onto rocks and mud and absolutely nowhere to turn. The girl spun around wildly, her chest heaving, her eyes scanning the surrounding region frantically for any sign of an escape. But there was none. Her mind whirred, spinning through dozens of possibilities that could lead to her getting out of this alive, and finding her friends again.

_Harry. Ron. _

She could only think of one thing. And it wasn't an option.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. The girl turned again and gazed at the bottom of the precipice. There was next to no chance she would survive the fall. It was completely impossible that she would get away unscathed, or even able bodied enough to flee the Snatchers further. She wished, deliriously, for Voldemort's skill of flying. She could sure use that now.

Crunching leaves behind her signalled the end of her brief respite. The girl felt herself freeze as a cold, gloating voice sounded from behind her.

'Thought you'd get away from us, did you?'

She turned to look at the Snatcher whose name she did not recall but whose appearance she remembered from that awful night at Malfoy Manor. His long, knotted black hair hung from his head and his gold tooth glinted evilly in the afternoon light. He sported a black eye and a red lip from the scuffle earlier but was otherwise uninjured. He leered at her; his cronies behind him - including a certain Fenrir Greyback - grinning unpleasantly at the prospect of yet another successful capture.

'Where are my friends?' Her voice shook, much to her chagrin. She clenched her hand around her wand and raised it, pointing it squarely at the leader's chest. He raised his hands mockingly, still leering.

'Now, now, precious, we didn't hurt no friends of yours. Don't you worry your pretty little head over that.'

Greyback chuckled behind him and Long Hair, as she had christened him, sent the werewolf a warning glance. The girl's heart rate sped up, if that was possible. What had they done to her friends?

_Harry. Ron. _

Suddenly the "wasn't an option" option was looking much more optional. The girl had survived against the odds before, surely she could bear a little drop?

With a flick of Long Hair's wrist, Greyback started advancing towards her and her mind was made up. She did what none of them were expecting, much less herself.

She jumped.

There was a roar of fury from the werewolf above, but it was soon covered by the deafening rush of wind through her ears. The girl's body wracked with cold and discomfort in the seconds leading up to her death.

Then, with a sickening crunch and a splatter of blood, it was over.

Her body lay limp and lifeless on the ground and Hermione Granger was no more.

* * *

><p>'No, no, no!' A beautiful woman with sharp features and a heavy scowl, dressed in what looked remarkably like a bedsheet, exclaimed. She tossed her long, golden hair and with a <em>Harumph!<em> fell back onto a plush couch that hadn't been there seconds before. 'The stupid girl wasn't supposed to go and off herself!'

'Now, now, Faye, none of us knew it would happen.' A plump woman with short, brown curls and a kind face said soothingly. She plucked a grape out of midair and chomped on it for a few seconds before continuing with a fond smile on her face. 'That Hermione Granger. So completely her own. I must say, I wouldn't have thought she had it in her. I know, I know, she's a brave girl but all the same ...' She trailed off, looking contemplatively into the distance.

Her sister scowled even more. 'I don't _care _what she had in her, Taite! We won't know, will we, now that she's off and dead! Argh!' She crossed her arms angrily.

A third woman, short and masculine-looking with straight black hair hanging to her chin, smirked. 'I knew it. Didn't I say? She was _reckless_, that's what she was. Always taking risks, and yet priding herself on her logic ...' she shook her head, disgusted. 'She got what she deserved, I say.'

'Marjorie!' Taite exclaimed, looking horrified. 'What an awful thing to say! I hope I don't need to remind you that you're not officially on the council and so _please do _keep those opinions to _yourself!_ You don't need to poison our minds as well as yours, you know.' She muttered the last bit to herself.

Marjorie bristled at her words, but said nothing. There was a tense silence, punctured only by the crunching sounds of Taite and her grapes.

'We could always -' Faye began, but she was cut off by Marjorie.

'No.'

Faye looked put out. 'But -'

'No.'

The blonde appealed to her sister. 'Taite, can't we just -'

'I'm sorry, Faye dear. I know it's annoying but there's simply nothing we can do about it. What has happened has happened, and I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it in good conscience.'

'But _Taite!_'

Taite looked slightly undecided. 'Faye I know what you're thinking and it's just not acceptable. Don't you remember the last time we interfered ...'

'Yes, I do!' Faye cried, standing up so that she towered over the brunette. 'The Wizarding World gained a hero, and their tormentor was rendered temporarily incapacitated! It was a good outcome!'

'Now Faye, don't be hasty.' Taite chastised. 'A poor boy was also subjected to a childhood of misery and neglect and the Wizarding World used it as an opportunity to deny any chance of the Dark Lord returning. _Not _to mention all the lives that have been lost.'

'But think of all the lives that have been _saved_ -'

'I just _don't know_, Faye.'

'_Please, _Taite.'

There was a pregnant pause and the air around them - for indeed it was as though they were all standing in mid-air, and the couch had disappeared - seemed to still while Taite considered her sister's request. The fate of the Wizarding World, very literally, rested on the outcome of her decision.

Taite glanced undecidedly at her sister's wide-eyed look and seemed to deflate. 'Well fine, if you really think it's best.' She murmured heavily.

Faye squealed and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. '_Thank you, _Taite! Thank you! I'll go do it now!'

And with that she ran off into the distance, fading into white.

Marjorie glared at Taite reproachfully. 'You shouldn't let her have her way like that, you know.' She sniffed. 'She's so spoilt -'

'Now, now, _none _of that, thank you.' Taite said curtly, cutting her off. 'If you really must know I had planned it all along. Hermione Granger was supposed to survive the chase, I saw it written in The Book just this morning. Why she didn't, I don't know ...' She trailed off, looking worried.

Marjorie, meanwhile, had frowned. 'But, the last time events didn't follow The Book someone had been -'

'Tampering, yes.' Taite said heavily. 'And we both remember the outcome of that, don't we?'

It didn't need to be said.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, three minutes ago ...<p>

She jumped.

There was a roar of fury from the werewolf above, but it was soon covered by the deafening rush of wind through her ears. The girl's body wracked with cold and discomfort in the seconds leading up to the impact.

Then, with a shrill whistling and the strange sound of wood scraping on wood, it was over.

The ground at the bottom of the precipice remained untouched, and Hermione Granger was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are MUCH APPRECIATED to give me lots of feedback and constructive criticism and all that lovely stuff so please, please - if you've taken the time to read this, then I'm sure you won't really mind three seconds more to leave your thoughts :)<strong>

**Riley Erin :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

**A/N: I'm back! Thanks for ALL THREE REVIEWS (seriously, guys. I mean, come on,) and assorted alerts. I think there was one Favourite, actually, so thank you to whoever that was :) **

**Next chapter there should be some Marauders (*sigh* I do love 'em) but for now it was getting to a seriously long length so I thought I'd better end it ... **

**Enjoy! **

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><p>It was the middle of the night. That was the first thing Hermione registered when she opened her eyes. She was gazing unfocusedly up at a wide expanse of <em>black<em>, and the first coherent thought in her head was two words.

_Harry. Ron. _

They didn't mean anything to her. Who were Harry and Ron? Why was she worried about them? Where were -

She sat bolt upright.

'_Harry! Ron!_' She cried, well aware that there was extremely little chance of them hearing her. Nevertheless she waited, breathing harshly, her eyes roving desperately around her. She didn't register the expanse of extremely familiar grounds, or the trees swaying slightly in the breeze, or the large, fat tree that was swaying quite a bit more than was usual, waving its club-like branches through the air as though daring something to come at it. She didn't see the stout, primitive hut in the distance, with the reflection of fire crackling merrily in its windows, and nor did she see the magnificent castle towering over it. Well, she _did _see it all, frantically scanning the area over and over again; she just didn't take in anything but the very distinct lack of Harry and Ron.

When no answer came, tears blurred her vision and she felt her chest constrict. It was when the feeling became more and more physically painful that she looked at her shirt. She was unpleasantly surprised to see it drenched in blood, but it certainly was. Tentatively, she peeled back the bottom of it and barely bit back a startled cry when she saw her stomach. There was a long, deep gash that she supposed was from the _Reductor _she'd been hit with running across it, oozing blood and looking quite unattractively inflamed.

Hermione frowned at the grotesque sight. Then she turned her attention to the rest of her body. There were several stinging welts across her arms and face from where she had run into twigs, there was a small wound on her head that was bleeding profusely and her lip was swollen to the size of a Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Bean. She was fairly sure her right ankle was dislocated, she'd lost her left pinkie finger's fingernail and she was shaking slightly.

Part of Hermione was alarmed at this less-than-positive inventory, but the more rational part of her (the same one that _still _hadn't taken any notice of her surroundings, even though that really was the first thing she should have done) was a little perplexed that she wasn't in a particularly large amount of pain. Sure, her chest was still uncomfortably constricted, but that could reasonably be attributed to the temporary loss of her friends. Maybe it was the adrenaline, she decided. But wasn't the adrenaline pretty much run out now?

Although she supposed, now she thought about it, that she was feeling a little lightheaded ...

Hermione didn't even realise she had fainted until her head hit the ground. But by then, of course, she was unconscious.

* * *

><p>The next time Hermione opened her eyes it was to an odd rocking sensation. The wide expanse of <em>black <em>had disappeared, only to be replaced with a clean, white ceiling and the faint smell of disinfectant. That, of course, was preposterous because Wizarding hospitals - for that was what this appeared to be - didn't use disinfectant, but rather an assortment of much more odorous concoctions. Hermione took a few seconds to muse distantly that even so; she, as a muggle born, had always just associated the disinfectant smell because, well - they _were _hospitals, and she _was _raised as a muggle. So even though anyone else may not have smelled disinfectant, Hermione did.

She realised she was mind-rambling and put a stop to it at once.

The rocking soon faded away and left her with the vague impression that she had just woken up from a very long sleep in something like the Night Bus, and she was still recovering from the adrenaline rush.

That left her with the question: why had she had an adrenaline rush?

And then she remembered.

It had been rather a surprise, Hermione reflected, when they'd been caught a second time. And completely accidental, too, unlike the first - when it had been Harry triggering the taboo. They'd just happened upon a couple of Ministry officials out on a family camping trip when moving to their next destination - and the Ministry workers were just as dismayed to find themselves facing the infamous trio as the infamous trio was to be facing the Ministry workers. The Snatchers had been there in under a minute. By then there hadn't been any time to run away and the only thing they'd been able to do was run. Hermione remembered the feeling of utter panic when she set eyes on the sinister group. She didn't recall separating from Harry and Ron but the last she remembered the three of them were running side by side, before Harry ducked behind a tree and fell back and Ron's fiery red hair broke off to the left and Hermione was left on her own. And then of course she had jumped off a cliff and died.

She was so engrossed in her reminiscing that it was rather a shock to Hermione's system when she realised that her being in a hospital only meant one thing: she had been found. And the disinfectant smell, obviously supplied by her imagination and therefore emphasising the _lack _of disinfectant smell, meant that she was in a Wizarding hospital. Which meant that she had been found by wizards. And as she was not only a muggle born, and therefore running from the law and technically a fugitive anyway, she was also widely known to be accompanying, aiding and assisting Undesirable Number One and therefore if she was in a WIZARDING hospital it meant she was also in custody and she was going to Azkaban and her wand was going to be broken in half and there was no way around it.

That was around the time she had to mind-slap herself to prevent a hyperventilation right then and there.

Hermione decided now was about the time to move her neck and check out this supposed hospital, but she was a little afraid of what she'd see. Prison bars? A cell door? Armed guards? Death Eaters? Dementors? Umbridge?

Somehow the thought of having that infuriating toad of a woman be the first person to greet her was even more terrifying than the thought of Dementors and Hermione had to mind-slap herself again to gain control of the situation.

She slowly turned her head to the side, wincing as it popped at the movement. What she saw startled her so much that she sat straight upright, triggering an incredibly intense pain in just about every part of her body and completely distracting her from the situation at hand.

But then she focused again and blinked, bemused. She saw something she would not have expected in ... _ever_. TheHogwartsHospital Wing.

'Uh ...' The sound escaped her lips before she could help it and before Hermione knew it a kind-faced, motherly woman in a ridiculously large nurse hat bustled out of her office at the side, confirming years of myths that that woman had the hearing of a bat.

Madam Pomfrey made a beeline to Hermione and it wasn't until the girl had looked more closely that she realised there was something very wrong. Because there were lots of things war could do to a person, and losing all your wrinkles and gaining smoother, younger skin was not one of them.

This was a younger Pomfrey.

Hermione sat there, her mouth hanging open slightly and her mind working at full capacity to determine what exactly was going on here - because one thing Hermione didn't like not knowing was what was going on. Of course, she mostly didn't like not knowing something at all so not knowing what was going on was even worse.

Hermione realised she was mind-rambling again and mind-slapped herself. Again.

Meanwhile, Younger Pomfrey was pulling vials and bottles out of thin air and plumping the pillows and pushing Hermione gently but firmly back so that she was lying against her now-sufficiently-plumped pillows, and generally multitasking like there was no tomorrow. She didn't say anything, and Hermione decided to test the waters.

'Um ...' she began, but was cut off when a large spoon filled with a transparent, disgusting liquid was stuck in her mouth and a cool hand placed itself on her forehead.

'No talking now, dear. Your throat is inflamed and you need to rest.' Younger Pomfrey stated firmly. 'Your injuries are quite extensive, but we'll have you healed in a day or two, don't worry. Bed rest is what you need. You're severely dehydrated, physically exhausted and far too underweight. Some of your injuries are even more serious but we'll address them when you're feeling better. There are quite a few cuts that I'm afraid aren't going to be able to heal with magic and you'll have a few scars but not to worry now; you're lucky to be alive. Thank goodness those boys found you or I'm not sure you would have made it through the night.'

The spoon was removed and Hermione was free to talk again, although she had a bitter taste in her mouth. 'Excuse me,' she began politely, because her mother had always taught her that manners were important no matter the situation and old habits died hard, 'but I'm not quite sure what's going on. Who found me? And where did they find me? And what -'

'Uh, uh, uh! No talking!' Exclaimed Younger Pomfrey. Hermione obediently shut her mouth because really, she knew from experience, you never got in the way of Madam Pomfrey - Younger or no.

'You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, dear. My name is Madam Pomfrey. You were found on the edge of the grounds, just inside the wards, by a pair of boys that, goodness knows, shouldn't have been wandering around at all hours of the morning ... but it's lucky they were. They brought you to me.'

Hermione frowned when Younger Pomfrey introduced herself because she certainly hadn't been gone long enough to be forgotten by the mediwitch - but then an idea formed in her mind and she didn't like it one little bit. Third Year came back to her and she felt the blood drain from her face.

'Madam Pomfrey?' She squeaked.

Younger Pomfrey looked at her sternly at the sound of her voice, but motioned for her to continue nonetheless.

'What -' she took a deep breath, 'What date is it, please?'

'It's the 20th of December, dear. Are you quite alright?' There it was, that hand at her forehead again, but Hermione barely noticed. She didn't know the date of the day they were chased by Snatchers, but it had been winter, so that fit. Only ...

'And the year? Madam - Madam Pomfrey?'

The mediwitch began waving her wand over Hermione's head in twirl-y movements, before looking Hermione in the eyes. 'It's 1977, dear. Do you feel dizzy at all?'

The noise that came from Hermione next, she often reflected afterwards, sounded an awful lot like a strangled chicken. Younger Pomfrey was quite alarmed.

'What's wrong, child? What's the matter?'

Hermione, however, wasn't listening. She was focusing rather intensely on her breathing and staring intently at her clenched fists on the bed covers to avoid hyperventilating.

...Further. To avoid hyperventilating further.

A sharp clap jolted Hermione out of her reverie and she hesitantly looked up at Younger Pomfrey who was staring at her shrewdly, as though solving a puzzle. Eventually she asked, 'What is your name?'

'I - I can't -'

'I'm checking for concussion, child, not interrogating for evidence, so unless you want to put yourself in more unnecessary danger then I suggest you answer my questions.' Younger Pomfrey interrupted sharply. 'Name?'

'Her - Hermione.' Hermione stuttered.

'Do you remember how old you are?'

'Seventeen,'

Younger Pomfrey nodded briskly and held up a hand with three fingers raised. 'How many fingers am I holding up?'

'Three,'

'Right; I don't think there's any immediate danger. Now drink this. The Headmaster Albus Dumbledore would like to see you later, but first you need rest.'

Hermione was presented with a potion she knew to be Dreamless Sleep and, loathe as she was to take it, did as she was asked. As soon as the potion had passed her lips her mind caught up with Younger Pomfrey's words and her eyes widened.

'_Dumbled-_' But before she could exclaim further the potion took its hold and she fell back into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was having quite an unusual day. Not that he would be complaining - he revelled in unusual days (although really, what day <em>wasn't <em>unusual when you were the Headmaster of a centuries-old school for witches and wizards?) and the spontaneity they brought with them. But all the same, some recent events had been quite alarming.

Firstly, the Chudley Cannons had come dangerously close to winning a Quidditch Game that weekend; something that had shocked even the twinkle out of Dumbledore's eye. As a firm supporter of the Holland Harpies, it came as a blow to discover that they had nearly been beaten by a team as useless as the Cannons.

Secondly, it had been reported that Professors Kettleburn and Evergreen had been chanced upon, _by a student_, engaging in ... intimate relations ... behind the green house. Professor Evergreen had, of course, been profusely apologetic - Dumbledore doubted anything of the sort would have been tolerated at her old school: a nunnery in the East. But Kettleburn had seemed very pleased with himself. Of course the whole staff knew that he had been attempting to _"woo"_, as he put it, the attractive Herbology professor ever since she had arrived and even with his assortment of missing limbs and grotesque scars it seemed he had gotten his woman. Wonders would never cease.

Of course, there was that business about a mysterious girl turning up inside the school wards; beaten and bloodied to within an inch of her life, but Dumbledore had every faith that the whole affair was just the strange magic of Hogwarts at play again. The girl was obviously young enough to be a student, and in dire need of help, and, as he always said, at Hogwarts help _did _come to all those who asked for it. Truth be told, he wasn't that worried about it (although he would be interested to have a chat with the girl when she was deemed fit for visitors by their incredibly talented, but also extremely patient-protective mediwitch).

But that mess with the Chudley Cannons, that really was an emergency ...

Dumbledore spent all morning sitting at his desk, writing lots of letters strictly on a "need-to-know" basis that could potentially create quite a bit of trouble for a number of Order of the Phoenix members if the information the letters contained was learned by the wrong people. He had a conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt, a very promising young Auror trainee and spoke with Minerva about whether or not they should consider insisting keeping children at Hogwarts in any future holidays, what with the worrying activities going on outside the haven the school provided. It was currently, of course, Christmas holidays, and they eventually agreed to let it all play out and see what the self-proclaimed "Lord Voldemort" did next.

Dumbledore didn't pretend not to be concerned about Tom.

So, after quite a productive and busy morning, Dumbledore ambled into happily into the Hospital Wing and kindly ordered Madam Pomfrey to allow him to see the patient. And that's where his day took a turn for the unexpected ...

* * *

><p>After Hermione had woken up, she had taken very good use of the exercise of <em>B-R-E-A-T-H-I-N-G<em>. Apparently it helped quite a lot with stress. Who knew, eh?

She thought a lot while she was waiting for Dumbledore to arrive, and by the time he did Hermione thought she had a theory of how she had somehow ended up here, at Hogwarts, **in the past**.

Then he was standing in front of her and the theory flew from her head.

'Oh my _God_!' She breathed involuntarily, not even realizing she was staring.

'The pleasure is all mine.' Dumbledore said amiably, his damn eye twinkling. He sat down comfortably on a chair next to her bed. 'Although I must say you've given us all quite a shock. Miss ...?'

'Granger, sir. Hermione Granger.' Hermione responded immediately. 'But there's something you need to know -'

'Oh, I dare say. You did, after all, manage to break into my school while apparently injured and barely of age. Not an easy task, that, and you, my dear, managed it in one night. So, where have you come from? If you don't mind my asking, of course.'

'Well, sir, you see ...'

'Yes, Miss Granger?' He prompted, giving her that impression of being able to see right through her.

'This is a delicate situation.' She managed to say. Hermione knew that she couldn't lie to Dumbledore, but every fibre of her body was protesting at breaking such important rules - rules of _such magnitude_ that they could change the face of the world as she knew it. _Don't tamper with time. _Not unless you're saving your best friend's convicted murderer godfather from the Dementor's Kiss on Hippogriff, of course. Everybody knew _that _exception.

Dumbledore kept looking at her expectantly. Hermione swallowed.

'Professor, I understand this is going to sound crazy, but ... I'm from the future.'

There was a pause.

Hermione felt compelled to bite her lip, but refrained because it had only just been reduced to normal size. All the same, the anxiety was killing her. What if he didn't believe her? What if he thought she was crazy? What if -

'That is just as I was expecting.' Dumbledore said finally, smiling genially and appearing as though everything was hunky-dory. Which for him, of course, it probably was.

'It - it is?'

'Of course! I wasn't sure, at first ... but you see my dear, very strong magic was involved with your arrival last night. Hogwarts has a mind of its own, often, and I believe something led it to come to the conclusion you were needed here. After all you, being English as I can tell from talking to you, should logically be attending my school. And yet nobody in a two hundred mile radius has heard of you! You can imagine my astonishment,' his voice turned slightly more serious, 'when I came to my conclusion. But it does fit, doesn't it?'

Hermione looked at him, astonished. 'I wasn't sure you'd believe me.'

He just smiled, and produced a lemon drop from inside his robes. He popped in into his mouth, still smiling at her.

'But professor, surely you must know what this means!' Hermione continued, feeling the panic coming back to her. 'You, in this time, are on the brink of war. You're _in _war. Can't you see? So many of you are dead, so many of you have turned to Voldemort ... I can't be here! I could change the future and erase my friends, or erase me, or completely destroy -'

'Now, now, Miss Granger, I wouldn't be so hasty.' Dumbledore interrupted gently. 'Have you much experience with Time Turners?'

Hermione nodded thickly. 'I used one in my third year to get to my classes.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Well, surely you understand. You would have changed the course of the future just by using your Time Turner. And yet, look - it didn't have any noticeable consequences at all. Now I know,' he added quickly, when Hermione opened her mouth to challenge this, 'that you will have been taught that tampering with the future has catastrophic consequences. 'However, it does not do nearly so much as we may think. After all, if you change the future, won't it have already been changed when you were born; leading the future you know of to be a direct result of the changes you made?'

'But what if I _do _change something, Professor? That theory can't be conclusive. What if it's wrong and I _do _change something and I ruin everything?' Hermione protested weakly, wringing her hands.

Dumbledore, to his credit, didn't seem to be too frazzled by the distraught teenager. 'I highly doubt you will.' He said soothingly, placing his fingertips together contemplatively under his chin. Hermione took a moment to wonder how this was possible with no desktop to rest his elbows on. She put it out of her mind. 'I think you'll find the world works in mysterious ways, Miss Granger. Fate does, often, have a habit of getting its way in the end.'

* * *

><p>'See, that's why I like Dumbledore so much.' Taite smiled, this time biting into an orange; that same fond smile on her face.<p>

Faye clicked her tongue impatiently, but she didn't seem to be able to help the smile creep onto her face. 'You just like him because Godric mentioned him that time.'

Taite turned bright red, the orange disappearing in a puff of smoke. 'Faye! I don't know _what _you mean! Why would Godric's opinion matter so much to me?'

She did not look like she wanted to hear the answer.

Luckily she was spared having to when Marjorie appeared out of seemingly nowhere, this time accompanied by a thin, bent over man with large bags under his eyes and a long, crooked nose. He looked at them all blandly. 'Marjorie mentioned something about a leak.'

'Oh yes, thank you, Truman.' Taite said; smiling and looking a little relieved at the interruption. 'It's just over there.' She pointed into the sky, although it was really just white like the rest of their surroundings, where a little patch of sunlight could be seen shining through what looked like a hole, about the size of a tennis ball.

Truman shuffled over to the hole, reached up laboriously and pulled down, and the hole in the air was stretched down to where he was standing. He then set to work with a needle and thread.

The three women watched on blankly, as though they'd seen this enough times already and didn't really care but didn't have anything else to do. Marjorie cleared her throat.

'So, how is that Granger girl going?'

'Oh, she's going marvellous, Marjorie!' Gushed Taite.

Faye rolled her eyes. 'She's figured it out, if that's what you mean. Dumbledore too. He seems to think that it's thanks to Hogwarts and its magic that she was sent there.' She smirked. 'I wonder if he'll ever cotton on and realise that it's just us whenever he tries to blame his stupid old castle.'

'TheHogwartsCastlehas extremely powerful magic ingrained deep within its structure,' argued Taite, 'but you're right. The limit of its powers is that marvellous Room of Requirement, and things like that. The ceiling of the Great Hall is quite impressive, too.'

Marjorie snorted.

Truman pulled the thread tight and cut it off, before "letting go" of whatever it was he was now holding and shuffling back to the women. He looked at them. They looked back. It was a bit of an awkward moment.

'Well, thank you Truman!' Taite eventually said; the cheerfulness seeming a little forced at his bland stare. 'That'll be all.'

He nodded stiffly and before they knew it he was gone.

Marjorie sniffed. 'I don't like him very much.'

'Oh, Marjorie.' Taite sighed wearily. 'You don't like anyone very much.'

* * *

><p><strong>For every review I get, I will update faster. That is not bribery, it is simply information for you to know ... :P<strong>

**Has anyone made the connection between 'Faye' and 'Taite' yet? As in 'Faye-Taite'? As in 'Fate'? I know, it doesn't really work spiffingly well, but I had to give them names, guys, jeeze! Marjorie just kind of happened. I don't know where she came from, but she's a bit like Snape, isn't she? Teehee ... **

**Thanks for reading, **

**Riley Erin :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

**A/N: So we're averaging three reviews or so for each chapter. Why don't we try and make that five this time? Come on! I'm sure you guys can manage it! **

**Marauders this chapter (AND THE CROWD GOES WILD) - let me know how I did with them, because to be honest it's kinda hard writing their characters. **

**Anyways. Enjoy! **

* * *

><p>James Potter was bored.<p>

This was particularly annoying because the fact of the matter was he _shouldn't _have been bored. He should very well have _not _been bored!

After all, it isn't every day (night? Early morning?) that you chance upon a mysterious, half-dead girl in the middle of the school grounds. It _certainly_ isn't every day (night? Early morning?) that you and your best friend Sirius Black are required to be gallant and chivalrous and rush her to the Hospital Wing, all the while speculating the matter of her identity, which remains to be unknown _even _when you deliver her to the appropriate responsible, qualified adults.

It is, actually, just about every day that you are shooed out of the hospital by a ferocious and terrifying nurse who seems to be convinced that your mere presence is bad for her patients. It just isn't every day (night? Early morning?) that it's over a mysterious, half-dead girl who you and your best friend Sirius Black chanced upon in the middle of the school grounds and were required to rush gallantly and chivalrous ... ly ... to the Hospital Wing in order to deliver her to the appropriate responsible, qualified adults.

And that was pretty much a summary of his day (night? Early morning?) and exactly why James Potter, at four o'clock in the morning, shouldn't very well _not_ have been bored!

He turned over in his bed, again.

Next to him he heard an annoyed sigh from Sirius and knew that the boy was having similar problems. Judging by the snores from his other roommates, however, they weren't experiencing the same struggles. He turned over in his bed, again.

'Would you stop moving around?' Sirius muttered irritably.

'Well, I'm sorry.' James snapped, feeling slightly annoyed. 'It's just that it's not every day - or ... night, or early morning or something - that you chance upon a mysterious, half-dead -'

'Yes, okay, Prongs, I get the picture.' His best friend interrupted, much to the relief of anyone who may or may not have been, for whatever reason, reading James' thoughts just moments before on a fanfiction website in an alternate universe (but that's another story).

James huffed, annoyed. He turned over in his bed, again.

'Okay, would you _just stop!_' Sirius exploded, sitting up.

Before James had time to retaliate, which he would have, there came a confused noise from the bed across from them. 'What did you do this time?' Asked the half-asleep-and-yet-still-managing-to-be-stern voice of Remus Lupin.

'James won't lie still!' Sirius complained.

'James, lie still.' Remus ordered, before promptly turning over and beginning to snore again.

'But _Moony!_' James whined.

The werewolf turned back over to glare at his friend. 'James. I am very tired. The full moon is in a week. There will be plenty of time for mucking around then. For now, go to sleep and stop annoying Sirius.'

'You won't guess what we found just before, though, Moony!' James said quickly, before Remus could go back to sleep.

'What?' Came the grudging reply a few seconds later.

'A girl!' Sirius jumped in impressively, effectively stealing James' thunder.

James scowled.

'Hogwarts is full of girls, Padfoot.' Remus was scowling too, although probably just because they'd woken him up just before dawn when he should have been getting his beauty sleep.

'But this girl didn't _go _to Hogwarts, Moony.' James replied. 'And she was half-dead and mysterious.'

'Is that right?' Remus still sounded grumpy, but his tone was slightly more interested. 'Where did you find this half-dead, mysterious girl?'

'On the grounds.' James said.

'What were you doing on the grounds in the middle of the night?' Remus asked despairingly. 'Why weren't you _asleep_?'

Sirius shrugged. 'We fancied a midnight stroll.'

'That is just wrong in so many ways.' Remus moaned, before finally giving in and sitting up, facing the two boys. 'Now explain, sensibly, what on earth you two are going on about.'

'Well, Moony, Sirius and I were just outside, you know, intending to visit Hagrid and see if he's had any progress with those self-growing pumpkins -'

'Because we thought it'd be cool if we put something like that in the Slytherins' dinner,' Sirius added, and James nodded seriously while Remus rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

'Yes. But then we found her: this girl, around our age, who neither of us had seen _ever before_, lying unconscious on the ground.'

Now Remus was looking interested.

Sirius jumped in. 'She was all beat up and covered in dirt and stuff, and her shirt was absolutely soaked in blood, and she was barely breathing.'

'So we were gallant and chivalrous,' James said.

'And we took her to Madam Pomfrey.' Sirius finished smartly.

'But Madam Pomfrey kicked us out,' James added sadly.

'And after he'd asked us what happened, Dumbledore sent us back to bed.' Sirius said, even more sadly than James.

Remus was frowning. 'That's really strange.' He said, scratching his head.

'Exactly our thoughts!' Sirius exlaimed.

'Quite.' Said James.

'So, knowing you two, why aren't you under the cloak and at the Hospital Wing right now?' Remus asked confusedly.

James sighed. 'Madam P clued in that we had some way of going undetected and put alarms on the doors.'

'So unless we figure out some way of getting through those wards ...' Sirius trailed off.

Remus was wearing his thinking face. 'I wonder where she came from, and how _she_ got inside the wards.' He said.

'Inside what wards?'

Remus looked at Sirius exasperatedly. 'You've got to be kidding me. How many times have I told you to read _Hogwarts: A History_?'

'Um ... six hundred and thirty seven, at the last count.' Recited James seriously.

Sirius grinned.

Remus stared at them for a second, before shaking his head and falling back into his bed.

They didn't get another word out of him until morning.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts was quieter than Hermione remembered. Dumbledore had told her it was Christmas holidays, so that explained the absence of most of the students, but there were also much less teachers than she would have expected. She passed about three on her way to the office of the eccentric old Headmaster that afternoon, but despite the odd looks she was given they didn't stop her.<p>

It was when she saw some actual students that she started to wish Younger Pomfrey had _not _given her leave of the Hospital Wing for the afternoon, and Dumbledore had been forced to visit her there again.

The students in question were three boys - brown, black and sandy haired - on their way, by the looks of it, to the Hospital Wing. Hermione stopped dead.

Dumbledore had mentioned very briefly the names of the boys that had found her and Hermione had, after another short hyperventilation and a mild dose of disbelief, resolved to avoid them as studiously as possible. This, it seemed, wasn't going to be an option. However they didn't seem to have spotted her yet; having gotten sidetracked by a much younger Hagrid.

Hermione stood for one second, her mouth slightly open, staring in shock at one of her best friend's dead father and godfather. They seemed to be happy enough, she noted dimly, and she made a mental note to show Harry this memory when she got back. The third boy was quite obviously a teenage Remus Lupin. His face weirdly line-free, even from the distance she was standing at, and his hair lacking the characteristic grey she knew, he looked like an entirely different person. Then, of course, there was Hagrid. Still the same towering size, his beard was ever so slightly shorter than Hermione remembered and he was obviously very friendly with the Marauders.

Younger Lupin turned his head slightly and Hermione froze when their eyes locked. He looked surprised, and was obviously about to nudge his friends when Hermione shook her head desperately, signalling to him with as much clarity as she could to pretend he hadn't seen anything. A frown marred his features, but Hermione didn't stick around to see if he listened. She slipped into an alcove in the wall where she knew a tunnel was hidden, and was long gone by the time he'd walked over to inspect the situation.

Hermione arrived, panting, at Dumbledore's office. Boy, she hated running. Which was ironic, seeing as she'd been doing a lot of it recently.

She muttered the password to the gargoyle ("nitwits") and stepped onto the spiral staircase, becoming quite occupied with a hangnail on her way up.

Upon entering the Headmaster's office, Hermione was hit with a wave of nostalgia. She'd just walked through most of the castle, but it was this room that seemed to affect her the most; which was odd, because she hardly ever came up here in her own time; it was always Harry.

'Ah, Miss Granger. Do sit down.' Dumbledore greeted her pleasantly from his seat behind his desk.

Hermione moved to the chair offered slowly, not once taking her eyes off the delicate, unusual instruments taking up the cluttered space in the office.

Dumbledore seemed to sense her need to be alone with her thoughts, for he let her wallow in the overwhelming sense of homesickness for exactly forty-five seconds before gently clearing his throat and bringing her back to the present.

'Miss Granger. I was wondering if, in light of our conversation this morning, you had given any thought to why, perhaps, you arrived here?'

Hermione's mouth formed an 'o' as she remembered her theory from earlier. She nodded enthusiastically, temporarily distracted from her meloncholia by the passion she always felt when explaining some magic or other. 'Well Headmaster, I remember reading once in the library and I came across a term that I didn't pay much attention to at the time, but then it came back to me this morning when I was waiting for you to arrive. _Fatalis Intervertu. _It's a very ancient kind of magic ... it's not a spell, it's more of ... well, it's a phenomenon that occurs very rarely; or at least, it is _detected_ very rarely. I'm sure it has occurred many other times in history, but it's hard to distinguish between _Fatalis Intervertu_ and just pure chance.'

Hermione paused, feeling slightly anxious. She'd never really spoken to Dumbledore about her ideas before (well, if she was honest with herself, she hadn't really spoken to him at all) and she was nervous as to what his reaction would be. It would be so embarrassing if she was wrong ...

'That sounds very interesting, Miss Granger. And most applicable to your situation. In fact, I do believe I've come across that piece of magic before in my studies.'

Hermoine breathed a sigh of relief. 'I just thought it sounded plausable, Headmaster. If a little far-fetched. After all, there is no conclusive evidence that _Fatali Intervertu_ exists at all, but it just seemed appropriate. You see, before I came here ... well, I was under a bit of pressure.' Hermione faltered slightly. 'You see, we were being chased and there was nowhere to go and I ... well, I jumped off a cliff.'

Dumbledore looked alarmed at this, but let her continue.

'You see, Headmaster, I know it was a bit drastic ... but the point is that something happened while I was falling. I almost certainly would have died, but I have no memory of any impact, or even getting close to the ground. One moment I was mid-air, and then there was this whistling sound and something else ...' Hermione frowned, trying to remember the other thing she had heard in the moments leading up to her "departure". She shrugged. 'It doesn't really matter. And then I woke up outside Hogwarts in the middle of the night.'

'So you were awake for your arrival?' Dumbledore asked, looking very interested. They hadn't had a chance to discuss how she had gotten twenty years in the past in their previous conversation.

Hermione shook her head. 'Not when I got here; just after it. I woke up but I was bleeding heavily from my stomach,' she paused slightly as said stomach tingled slightly. Younger Pomfrey had been able to partially mend it, but the time travel seemed to have messed with Hermione and her ability to heal. There was a heavy bandage on her stomach and she was still a bit of a mess physically; she just wasn't in much pain. 'I passed out a minute or so after becoming conscious.' She finished.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. 'So why do you think _Fatalis Intervertu_ was involved? Why not some other strange cause?'

Hermione nodded in understanding. 'Well you see, _"Fatalis Invertertu, or, Fatal Intervention, is seen to occur when the subject is in a life and death situation, and their life or death could impact directly the fate of the world."' _She recited.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes became more pronounced at the unexpected burst of text.

Hermione blushed. 'I don't mean to imply that my death would have been terribly important; it's just that, well ... I was one of three people fighting to rid the world of Voldemort. We had a job to do, and if we failed, then there - there would have been no hope. So if I was about to jump off a cliff, but Harry and Ron were already dead ...' Hermione tried to finish the sentence, but the realisation had just hit her that she didn't know the fate of her friends.

'Oh …' She breathed, her eyes widening. The thought of her friends being dead, or thinking she was dead, or one of them being dead and her not being there to grieve and comfort the other made her want to vomit. Dumbledore reached over and rested his hand gently on her arm (she didn't even pause to wonder how he managed to reach; he was one of the most powerful wizards in history, after all).

'Take comfort in the fact that they aren't dead at this point in time; indeed, they aren't even born. While this can be an isolating thought, it can also be a reassuring one.' He said kindly, the twinkle in his eyes diminishing somewhat.

Hermione realised she was crying and roughly wiped the tears away, her face flaming in embarrassment. 'You're right.' She said thickly. 'I shouldn't worry.' She sniffed.

Dumbledore withdrew his hand and his expression turned thoughtful. 'The question now, Miss Granger, is how we shall get you back to your home. I don't suppose you've come across anything useful in your readings?'

Hermione thought he probably already knew, but was giving her a chance to flaunt more knowledge. The gesture was appreciated, but a fresh wave of despair washed over Hermione as she remembered the answer to his question. She shook her head slowly.

'There's no way to counteract it.' She breathed. '_Fatalis Intervertu_ is considered a saving grace and once it has taken place you can't undo it. It's – it's permanent.'

Oh no.

* * *

><p>Hermione left Dumbledore's office feeling rather numb.<p>

So numb, in fact, that she didn't notice when she walked right into the very boys she had avoided before.

'Half-dead mysterious girl!' The boy she knew to be James Potter cried in surprise. 'You exist!'

She stopped, shocked, and could only stare. Then her mind registered his words and she frowned. 'Yes ...'

A teenage Sirius Black shook his head, grinning. 'He didn't think you existed when you weren't in the Hospital Wing.' He offered a hand dramatically. 'Sirius Black, at your service.'

Blankly, Hermione accepted the hand and he kissed it. All she could think was: _I've just been kissed by my best friend's dead godfather_.

'Um ...'

'And I'm James Potter,' James jumped in, not about to be outdone by his friend. He bowed extravagantly. 'A pleasure to be sure, my lady.'

'Ignore them.' Remus said, smirking slightly; but Hermione could see the unspoken question in his eyes. So he hadn't told his friends about before after all, and now he wanted an explanation. Fantastic. 'Remus Lupin. It's nice to meet you.' He said politely, and she nodded.

'So who are you, and why were you half-dead?' James asked bluntly, suddenly serious.

Hermione faltered, remembering the cover story she and Dumbledore had just worked out. 'Hermione Jean. And I actually can't tell you much at the moment.' She bit her lip. 'But thank you. I heard you helped me out there.'

They were looking at her calculatingly now, but nonetheless after a pause Sirius smiled charmingly. 'Not at all.'

Hermione stood for a second, slightly speechless, before thinking up an excuse. 'I'm supposed to go back to the Hospital Wing.' She said, gesturing in the direction of the accursed ward. 'It was nice to meet you.'

And she walked as fast as she could that wouldn't be interpreted as running.

* * *

><p>The boys stood for a second, watching Hermione Jean practically flee the area, all thinking the same thing. It was Remus who finally voiced their thoughts.<p>

'Well, that was weird.'

James nodded, frowning, still looking in the direction Hermione had vanished off as though the hall would unveil some mystery. 'I know. She certainly didn't want to be talking to us.'

'And she didn't answer the question.' Sirius' expression was the very epitome of suspicion.

James turned to him in surprise. 'What, why was she half-dead? Did you really think she was going to?'

'Why shouldn't she have?' Sirius looked at his friend, non-plussed.

Remus rolled his eyes. 'You saw her. She was still pretty beat up. Now, after spending a night in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey, her still looking like a wreck means one of two things: either those curses were dark magic, which is much more difficult to heal, or there's something else going on.'

Both boys stared at Remus for a few seconds. 'That wasn't really where I was going.' James said eventually. 'But that's okay. Your explanation sounded better.'

Remus nodded. 'They always do.'

* * *

><p><strong>Five reviews ... please? *puppydog eyes* <strong>

**Thanks for reading, **

**Riley Erin :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

**A/N: We got four reviews ... Not quite five, but it's a start. **

**Thanks to everyone who _did_ review, anyway. I probably should have mentioned that Peter wasn't nonexistant last chapter, he was just on x-mas hols - I know, I know, it was slightly lazy of me, but somehow I don't think Hermione would have gone fantastic facing off Pettigrew as well as everyone else. She may very well have had a nervous breakdown, or something. So what did I do? I sent him on a cruise! Yay! **

**And so to end this extraordinarily long author's note, I say: **

**Enjoy! **

**(And please review.) **

* * *

><p>Hermione spent the next day and a half writing out her cover story and studying as though she was a fifth year and it was OWLs time again. It was good to have something to study; even if it was a topic as mundane as her supposed life story.<p>

Hermione thought that Dumbledore was mad to allow her to begin school life like a normal new student 20 YEARS IN THE PAST. She had, over her time on the run, begun to ever so slightly lose faith in the wizened professor (not that she would have ever admitted it to herself; after all, he was an academic genius! A legend!). And yet here she was: following his insane directions and putting the very fate of the Wizarding World in danger. How was she supposed to live in close proximity to James and Lily Potter without giving away their grim futures? How was she supposed to watch Sirius Black gorge himself on food in the Great Hall (as she knew he was very well liable to do), all the while painfully aware that one day not so far into the future he would be starving in Azkaban? How was she supposed to see Remus Lupin joke about how she should ignore his friends' antics when she knew that, in her time, he was the only remaining Marauder? And how in God's name was she supposed to cope when Wormtail arrived back from Christmas holidays without strangling the treacherous, cowardly rat?

But there was one thing Hermione was certain of: if she was going to do this, she was going to do it properly. So she spent all her waking hours (of which there weren't really many: it seemed Younger Pomfrey's idea of bed rest actually involved sleeping; so, with threats of more Dreamless Sleep potion if she didn't cooperate, Hermione was resting up quite a bit) studying her life story with a focused vigour she hadn't had an opportury to exercise while hunting Horcruxes. Or, she hadn't had time to exercise it in terms of study. She'd been more focused on figuring out what the hell they were supposed to be doing.

Hermione knew for a fact James and Sirius tried to get in at least three times over beforementioned day and a half, but she was glad Younger Pomfrey adamantly refused them entry every time.

'Now boys, how many times have I told you? I won't have you disturbing the peace in my Hospital Wing any more than absolutely necessary! It's full moon in two days and I have no doubt I'll have all three of you in here badgering Mr Lupin then -'

Hermione's ears had pricked up upon hearing this and she had straightened from her cross-legged position on the covers of the bed to hear the response.

'Just Jamesie and I, I'm afraid, Madam P. Peter's on a cruise with his parents, the lucky git.'

'Mr Black! Mind your language!'

Hermione had laughed when she heard this as it was James remonstrating his friend in a haughty voice, not Younger Pomfrey. She was fairly sure the boys heard her because they carried on for a bit longer afterwards, but the moment of interest had gone. Hermione turned back to her notes, blocking out rather successfully all banter between Sirius and James and all subsequent thoughts of her friends back home. The Weasely twins and their juvenile pranks, Lee Jordan and his incredibly biased quidditch commentary, Luna and her infuriating eccentricities, Ginny and her fiery determination and most painfully, Harry and Ron.

The truth was, not knowing what had happened after she left was driving her crazy. Were they alright? Had they escaped the Snatchers? Hermione wished that there was some way for her to find out, even though she knew it was useless.

Not to mention the one crucial fact: she missed them.

Hermione had spent the last ten or so months with the two boys - they had become her family even more than they had already been before their little "camping trip". There was more than one reason Hermione studied so incessantly from her bed in the Hospital Wing; it helped distract her from the overwhelming sense of loss she felt whenever she remembered all that she had left behind.

Part of Hermione couldn't wait to be released by Younger Pomfrey so that she could go to the library and read up on _Fatalis Intervertu_. She was clinging to the frail hope that some loophole could be found - that she could find something, _anything_, to help return her to her home.

The other part of her wanted to take the largest dose of Younger Pomfrey's Dreamless Sleep potion she was allowed - or better yet, procure some Draught of Living Death - and drink the lot, leaving her troubles behind her.

But Hermione Granger never was one to shy away from a challenge.

So by the time Younger Pomfrey (grudgingly) allowed Hermione to leave the Hospital Wing a day and a half later - laden with potions and the stern instructions that if she were to feel nauseus at any time to return immediately - her invented history was complete.

Hermione Granger was hidden and Hermione Jean, unremarkable nobody and transfer student from Salem Witch's Academy, was born.

Figuratively speaking.

* * *

><p>The first place Hermione went upon leaving the Hospital Wing was Dumbledore's office. Lagging faith or no, she was definitely in deep this time and Hermione was going to need Dumbledore's help to get herself sorted out. Not to mention she was incredibly grateful to the man for offering her refuge at Hogwarts after her "accident". It would have been expected, anyway, but she was grateful nonetheless.<p>

She knew the password.

After a brief ride on a rotating staircase Hermione found herself once again at the office of one Albus Dumbledore and she stepped tentatively inside.

'Hermione, you're looking much better.' He greeted warmly. Dumbledore was standing to the side, flicking idly through a large, dusty book; his half-moon spectacles glinting oddly in the light of the room.

Hermione smiled and nodded a little awkwardly; she didn't think she would ever get used to being in such terms of familiarity with the Headmaster - at least not for a long while yet.

'I have been reading up on _Fatalis Intervertu.' _Dumbledore continued. He moved slowly over to his desk and sat in the chair behind it, still holding the book. He motioned for Hermione to do the same. 'It is much more interesting than I remember ... but highly improbable.'

Hermione nodded slowly, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks. She moved to the seat she was offered. 'I know, sir, I just -'

'And I believe it to be all the more likely because of it!' Dumbledore announced cheerfully.

Hermione blinked. 'Um - oh - well, yes,' she replied, feeling rather flustered. 'I ... why?'

The Headmaster smiled at her, his eyes twinkling as much as ever. 'Well, haven't you noticed that often in life is the most improbable things end up being the most likely?'

'I ... I suppose so ... but simple answers can be applicable as well,' She protested weakly.

Dumbledore nodded. 'Oh, yes, that is often the case. However I always find improbability to be so much more interesting, don't you?

She couldn't argue with that.

'Now, let's get down to business. I have arranged for an extra bed to be placed in the Gryffindor seventh year girl's dormitories,' He said, absently placing the dusty tome back on a shelf that seemed to appear of nowhere.

'Thank you so much for doing this again, Professor.' Hermione said.

'Nonsense, nonsense,' Dumbledore replied smoothly, smiling gently down at her. 'There was already an extra bed in there from Lily Evans - she's Head Girl this year. It was no trouble at all.'

Hermione's heart plummeted again, as it did whenever she thought about Harry's parents.

As if hearing her thoughts, Dumbledore regarded her seriously. 'I understand how hard this is going to be for you, Hermione. I don't pretend that circumstances aren't dire at this point in war. I can only imagine the world you grew up in - the version of Hogwarts you went to.' For a moment the twinkle seemed to die down a little. 'I also do not delude myself into thinking that all current students are on the way to lives of charity and light. Some people you may see - and some people you may recognise, from situations less than satisfactory.'

Hermione's eyes narrowed as one person came to mind.

'Where is Bellatrix Lestrange - oh, I mean Black - sir? She will have left Hogwarts by now, won't she?'

Dumbledore frowned. 'Miss Black graduated three years ago, yes. She became engaged to Rodolfus Lestrange last year.'

Hermione nodded, relieved. _That_ would have been just the icing on the cake - if she'd had to bear a seventeen-year-old (but no doubt just as psychotic) Bellatrix Lestrange stalking the corridors of Hogwarts on top of everything else.

'What about ...' Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, thinking of any other possible menaces. 'Yaxley? Dolohov ... and Mulciber, Crabbe and Goyle, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy - or Black - um ...'

'Narcissa Black graduated a year ago, one year after her fiance, Lucius Malfoy. Yaxley graduated three years ago, Mulciber four, Crabbe six and Goyle two. Antonin Dolohov graduated last year, with Narcissa.'

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be easier than she thought. 'Right.'

'I cannot stress how important it is for you not to reveal anything to a single soul, Hermione.' Dumbledore said. 'You bear knowledge of the future that some in this world would stop at nothing to get; should your secret be revealed, you could be in serious danger.'

Hermione nodded. 'I understand.' She hesitated. 'I'm still worried; what if I change something -'

'Hermione, I am of the utmost confidence that anything that happens was always meant to.' Dumbledore said gently. 'Now - the password to the Gryffindor Common Room is "Chocolate Frog" unless I am very much mistaken. The Christmas holidays finish in three days. I suggest you get your bearings before the hordes return. Good luck, Miss Granger. Or should I say Miss Jean?'

Hermione smiled weakly. 'Miss Jean it is, Professor.'

* * *

><p>The Gryffindor Common Room was empty when Hermione stepped slowly through the Portrait Hole. Immediately she found herself hit with a barrage of memories, and, without being able to help it, her face split into a large grin. It wasn't very used to it, and the feeling was a little strange; like her cheeks were being stretched. Hermione figured she'd get used to it again eventually.<p>

She wandered slowly through the room, gazing at all the familiarities between this version of the common room and the version she remembered from her time. They weren't all that different - obviously the house elves kept them in such good condition all the time there wasn't really anything to define them by.

She walked up the stairs to the seventh year dormitories, and stuck her head inside. Nobody. Feeling rather nervous all of a sudden, Hermione stepped into the room and observed the chaos with a slight feeling of amusement. Obviously these girls weren't too different from her old roommates, then ... Lavender always had been very disorganised.

True to Dumbledore's word, there was a spare bed nestled into the corner. A trunk sat comfortably on top. Hermione headed over to it, curious as to what she would find and, if she were truthful, a little apprehensive - after all, Dumbledore couldn't be considered the most educated in what was necessary for a seventeen-year-old girl! But the Headmaster had outdone himself. The trunk was equipped with fresh robes, a uniform, a toothbrush, a watch, school books, quills, parchment, clothes, a cloak and even a pouch full of money. He'd just forgotten one thing. Shoes.

Hermione laughed softly, thinking of her demolished sneakers back at the Hospital Wing. She could repare them fairly well and she supposed they'd do until she got around to buying some more.

At a bit of a loss of what to do, Hermione sat down awkwardly on the bed and dug through her text books. She was interested to see that they weren't all that different to the ones from her time, although a few of the titles were new to her.

She soon became very interested in the books and was lying comfortably on her bed, leafing through a copy of her Defence Against the Dark Arts text, when the door swung open and a girl with long, blonde hair and a happy face entered the room, looking somewhat preoccupied.

'Lily's present, Lily's present, Lily's present ...' She was muttering under her breath, and she began to search in her things - presumably for "Lily's present".

Hermione froze. There was no mistaking this girl, with her round, smiling face and kind eyes - it was Alice Longbottom, Neville's mother. Alice looked up briefly from her search and spotted Hermione, jumping in surprise. 'Oh! Erm ... hello. Who are you?' She asked bluntly.

'He - Hello.' Hermione stuttered, still slightly shocked. She shook herself, pulling herself together. 'I'm Hermione.' She said, smiling slightly unconvincingly. 'I'm new.'

Alice raised an eyebrow. 'Alice Prewett.' She said. 'I haven't ever heard of new students coming to Hogwarts.' She sounded suspicious.

Hermione shrugged, feeling herself slip into lying mode. 'I've just moved to London. It was more conveniant to come to Hogwarts than to keep going to my old school. I used to attend the Salem Witch's Academy.' She added as an afterthought.

'Oh.' Alice still looked slightly cautious. 'Why did you move to London?'

Hermione tried to look sad. It wasn't that hard, really. 'Death Eater attack. My family died and my guardian thought it would be best if I had a change of scenery. So I came here.' She shrugged again.

Instantly Alice's face softened. 'Oh, you poor thing!' She cried, and flung herself at Hermione, who jumped slightly in surprise when finding herself incased in a vicious bearhug. 'Well, you'll be very happy here.' Alice continued, pulling back and surveying Hermione with a critical eye. 'Although we really have to do something about your hair.'

For the first time in two days, Hermione's nerves lessened slightly. She grinned. 'It's nice to meet you too.'

* * *

><p>James and Sirius tried to get into the Hospital Wing five more times over the next day and a half. It wasn't that they were all that concerned about Hermione Jean's health - which, of course, they were; just not enough to try and sneak in five times. The truth was that they were extremely bored, what with no Snivellus to prank and no Evans to annoy and no fans to show off to, and the strange girl was the most interesting thing by far in the castle. Not to mention the fact that they still didn't know how she had come to be in the middle of the grounds in her state of ill health and the two trouble makers did love a mystery.<p>

Remus tagged along, but mostly because Peter wasn't there for him to hang out with, as he usually did when James and Sirius were in their restless moods. The two of them, bored, usually ended up in some form of explosion. Remus liked to stay clear of those.

Of course, typically, Madam Pomfrey didn't let them within an inch of the girl and the stupid wards at the entrance of the Hospital Wing stayed up until the patient was finally released.

In the absence of anything else to do the boys amused themselves with visits to Hagrid, countless games of chess and a few three-person quidditch matches (even though Remus usually ended up face down in the dirt, his broom skidding away in the opposite direction) instead.

That is, until they saw Hermione Jean slowly but surely making her way towards the Gryffindor Tower one afternoon, a day and a half later.

James, Sirius and Remus were trekking back to the castle after one such impromptu game of quidditch, and all of them were a bit out of breath by the time they arrived back at the large front doors. Suddenly James squinted. 'Is that Hermione Jean?' He asked to nobody in particular, eyeing the small figure walking purposefully in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room.

Remus looked in the direction James was pointing. 'Yeah, it is.' He said, recognising the mane of bushy hair even from that distance. 'I wonder what she's up to.'

'Madam P must have let her out of the Hospital Wing,' Sirius remarked casually, his broom slung across his shoulder. 'Come on. Let's see if we can catch up to her.'

However, still farely weak or not Hermione Jean was a fair bit ahead of them and the boys were tired and sore. So no, they couldn't catch up to her.

By the time they had reached the Fat Lady the girl in question was in the Girl's Dormitories, and of course they couldn't very well waltz in there (although they had worked out how to bypass the slippery staircase in third year).

Instead they sat themselves down by the fire, munched on Chocolate Frogs and began planning their start-of-term prank, not even noticing when Alice Prewett passed them on her way up the stairs to the dormitories.

It was one very lazy afternoon, and before long all three of them had forgotten why they had come back to the dormitories in the first place and Hermione Jean was out of their minds.

* * *

><p>Hermione liked Alice Longbottom, or Prewett, as she constantly reminded herself, immediately. She was a little intimidating with her rather crude sense of humour - which made Hermione wonder where Neville had inherited his squeamishness, for lack of a better word - and upfront attitude. She was also, however, kind and considerate and obviously deeply in love with her boyfriend.<p>

Hermione couldn't help but feel considerably better when Alice brought up the subject of Frank Longbottom.

'Oh, he's the nicest boy you'll ever meet.' She was saying, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes gazing lovingly into the distance. She was sitting on her bed, and Hermione on her own. 'I was a little worried when he graduated last year because, well, he's out of school and I'm not and I thought he might think I was childish, but, oh, he's been so wonderful! I see him every Hogsmeade visit anyway and we write to each other,' she sighed a little sadly. 'I do miss him, but you know when I leave school I'm going to live with him and I can't wait! And of course he's such a thoughtful person, there was this one time when ...'

It did get a little tiresome after thirteen minutes of listening to her lovesick speech but nonetheless Hermione's spirits were high as they moved down towards the Great Hall for dinner.

They passed the Marauders in the Common Room, James and Sirius' heads bent together while they scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment, and Remus reading a book quietly with his back to the passing girls.

'Those are the _Marauders_.' Alice whispered, sneering slightly at what she obviously thought was a ridiculous name. 'James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew too, usually, but he's on holidays. They're trouble. Stay away from them unless you want orange hair and a face covered in boils.'

Hermione looked at her, slightly alarmed. 'What?'

'Pranksters.' Alice said matter-of-factly. 'Or at least that's what they like to think. Really they're just immature attention-seekers but we can't tell them that, it would be a blow to their ego.' She seemed to hesitate slightly, glancing at them. 'Some of their pranks on the Slytherins are very funny ...' She said, a little unsurely. 'If you must know I just kind of hate them because my best friend, Lily Evans, she hates them. With a _passion_. That one there, with the messy hair and the glasses? That's James Potter. He's head over heels for Lily but he goes about it completely the wrong way. Always making such a shenanigan over asking her out; she's never once said yes.' Alice shrugged. 'Either way you'll probably be swamped by Sirius Black in the first week or so - you're fresh meat, he'll be scouting you out to see if you're snogging material - but they don't really bother with anyone other than themselves. Remus is alright.'

Hermione still looked alarmed. 'I'm not snogging material!' She exlaimed as they climbed through the portrait hole. 'Just ... no!'

Alice patted her on the shoulder with a sympathetic look, but the corners of her mouth were twitching. 'It's alright. He's fit, really. Just beware, because he's the last person who'd be having deep and meaningful relationships.'

Hermione gave a disgruntled sort of glance back at the closed portrait hole. Her? With Sirius Black? _Harry's dead godfather?_ That was just wrong in so many ways. 'I'm taken, anyway.' She said resolutely.

Alice looked at her, surprised. 'Really? I mean - oh, of course it's not that you wouldn't have a boyfriend, I'm sure -'

Hermione smiled softly. 'He's not my boyfriend. I mean we're not "going out". But there's this boy ... oh, it's impossible now of course.' She blinked away the tears that were threatening to show and stopped thinking about Ron.

Alice smirked mischeivously, not noticing her struggle. 'We'll get you a man, don't you worry.' She winked.

Hermione glanced at her expression and was immediately worried.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a quiet affair. Hermione was introduced to the teachers and students sitting around the table briefly, and she sat next to Alice near a first year boy who kept glancing at her nervously. Hermione supposed she still looked a little dishevelled; there was a bruise on her jaw and a thin cut over her eye; but other than that, and a few other bruises hidden quite conveniantly under her robes - oh, how she'd missed those robes - she thought she'd healed quite well.<p>

The Marauders arrived half-way through dinner, having obviously run down from the Common Room.

'Evening all,' Sirius puffed, plonking himself down unceremoniously and piling his plate with food.

James and Remus sat down next to him, serving themselves with a little less gusto.

The conversation at the table, having stopped for a second, gradually returned.

James was the one who spotted Hermione.

'Hermione!' He cried in surprise, grinning. 'Great to see you alive and well.'

Sirius looked up, swallowed, and winked. 'And out of that sillow Hospital gown, of course.'

Alice raised her eyebrows and looked questioningly at Hermione, who had turned slightly red.

'Oh, well, hello again.' The bushy-haired witch said. She nodded politely and went back to eating, keeping her eyes staring resolutely at her plate.

'You've ... met Hermione then,' Alice said to the boys, looking a little confused.

'Oh, yes,' James said, and was about to launch into the tale when he caught Dumbledore's expression from across the table. 'I ... we met her as she arrived this morning, didn't we boys?' He said, after floundering for a moment.

He nudged Remus, who nodded after a moment's confusion. 'Oh, yes. Yes, we saw Hermione this morning.'

Sirius didn't say anything on account of the enormous amount of food in his mouth once again.

'What did you mean about the Hospital gown, though?' Alice asked.

Hermione jumped in. 'Oh, that was just a joke. Sirius said something about my dress when we met. About it looking like a Hospital dress, or something.'

Sirius raised his eyebrows at her, but didn't argue.

'Black! That is just like you, insult the poor girl before she's even set foot in the castle!' Alice huffed. 'Honestly!' She glared at him for a second before shaking her head and continuing eating.

James turned to his friend, looking outraged. 'That's right! How dare you! Insulting a fair maiden in such a manner, the very thought!'

Sirius glared in challenge. 'And you are no better? The scandal! You, who pride yourself on the repelling of the opposite sex?'

'I don't think that's deliberate.' Remus said from next to them. 'James was just born a woman-repeller.'

James huffed in indignation. 'I beg to differ! The ladies love me!'

Alice snorted, not looking at them. 'Right, that's _so _true.' She muttered to herself, although she was smirking when James exploded and Hermione thought it was probably meant for his ears.

'The very thought!' He cried. 'My own friends betraying me and then this scoundrel insulting my honour,' he gestured towards Alice. 'The outrage!'

'James, that just proves our point.' Sirius said from next to him. 'Calling girls scoundrels is not going to get them to love you.'

'Alice doesn't count!' James said huffily, after realising his mistake.

'And there he goes again,' Remus said exhasperatedly, as Alice scowled at James.

'Oh,' the boy in question grinned sheepishly. 'Sorry, Alice.'

A piece of mashed potato hit him square in the forehead.

* * *

><p><strong>Five reviews ... please? *puppydog eyes* <strong>

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**Riley Erin :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

**A/N: Seven reviews! Yay! Congratulations, everybody - you did it: over five reviews! **

**Phew! Right! I shall now end a sentence with punctuation other than an exclamation mark ... **

**Ooh ... tricky. It was an elipsis. Freaked you out there, didn't I? O_O **

**Enjoy! **

**(And please review.) **

* * *

><p>Hermione sat in a chair in the Common Room facing the fire, her mind whirring.<p>

She had spent dinner with three quarters of the Marauders and Alice Longbottom nee Prewett, engaged in pleasant conversation.

When asked about herself, she had lied with complete ease about her history - that she used to go to Salem Witch's Academy, that her parents moved to England for work in the Ministry of Magic and that it had been easier for her to come to Hogwarts instead of having to either stay behind or travel ridiculously large distances for school.

When Sirius had told a stupid joke about Professors Evergreen and Kettleburn she had laughed, albeit a little uncomfortably, along with everybody else.

When Remus had brought up the subjects she would be learning that year she had told him, and then engaged in a very interesting conversation about whether or not Blast-Ended Skrewts were really a very safe creature to be in close proximity to.

And when Alice had launched on a spiel about how wonderful Frank was, Hermione had smiled when James had rolled his eyes, and she had smiled even more when Alice punched him on the shoulder and he winced (no matter how hard he tried to hide it).

This would _not _do.

Hermione Granger is a logical girl. She always has been. And the one thing she knew at that time was that at some point she was going to return to the future. She had already established that with herself. She was going to go back if it was the last thing she did, all known information on _Fatalis Intervertu_ be damned. And if she went back to her time, she was leaving here. Which meant that there was absolutely no reason for her to make friends.

What's more, she didn't recall Lupin swearing loudly or showing any sign of recognition whatsoever when he first met her on the train, so that meant he didn't remember her. Which meant they hadn't been close. Which meant she was most definitely _not _supposed to be making friends.

Hermione huffed and chewed on her lip, feeling just a little out of her depth. How was she supposed to act as though she had nothing to hide if she wasn't going to show basic manners and be friendly with her classmates? Wasn't that just going to arouse more suspicion?

The sound of laughing brought her out of her reverie. Hermione looked up and saw a group of second years playing Exploding Snap in the corner, and smiled slightly. Singed eyebrows aside, they were the perfect symbol of what she was fighting for. Of what her friends were fighting for. A world where friends could blow each other's faces up without being too caught up in a war to have fun. Not that Hermione counted that as fun. _Studying _was fun. But that wasn't the point.

Someone plonked themselves down next to her. It was James Potter.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned to face him, smiling in greeting.

'Hello, James.' She said politely.

'Hey!' He greeted. 'What do you think of Hogwarts so far?'

'Oh, it looks fantastic,' Hermione replied promptly, trying to look as excited as she probably should have felt. 'The castle is amazing, and Professor Dumbledore seems very nice.'

'Yeah, he is pretty cool. Crackers, though, but cool.' James paused awkwardly. 'So, um, we were wondering ...'

It was just then that Hermione noticed that Sirius and Remus were hovering conspicuously behind James' left shoulder, pretending to inspect the Common Room ceiling.

'You were wondering ...?' She trailed off, turning back to face James. It was just very distracting, having him look so much like Harry. Maybe she could cast some sort of glamour spell ... No. That would not help her anonymity.

James was looking oddly sombre all of a sudden, and it was just reminding her more of Harry. 'Well, you said you were from Salem Witch's Academy, right?' He began, and Hermione suddenly felt quite cornered in.

'Yes,' she agreed cautiously, silently wondering how fast she could run from this chair to the Girl's Dormitory steps without drawing attention from her stalkers, who were a bit too close for comfort (she could have reached out and touched Sirius).

'Well, that's what we'll tell everyone else and everything,' James continued, 'but ... well, we were just wondering where you're really from.'

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked slowly. Maybe thirty seconds, tops, to her dormitory - if she didn't trip on those Exploding Snap-playing second years, that was.

'Aw, come on. You didn't just transfer schools. Or, not ordinarily, at least. How did you get so hurt? And why were you outside like that?' James asked cautiously, obviously wary of coming across as nosey. Sirius and Remus' ears were practically jumping off their heads as they continued to murmur quietly about the quality of the wood for supporting beams.

Hermione sighed. 'Yes. I thought you'd probably be a bit curious ... I'm sorry, James. But Dumbledore said it's probably best if -'

'Was it from dueling?' James cut in, obviously trying not to look too insensitively curious.

'Not so much dueling, as ... running and cursing and tripping and running ...'

'Who were you being chased by?'

Sirius and Remus moved closer under the pretence of examining the burn mark just above where Hermione was sitting.

There was quite a long pause; or at least, that was how it sounded to Hermione before she softly answered, 'No-one you know.'

James cocked his head to the side, regarding her curiously. 'Right. Okay, that's fine. But ... we're not supposed to tell anyone about finding you, is that it?'

Hermione hesitated. 'Well, I think that's what Dumbledore wants. He seems concerned that if it gets spread around, people could jump to conclusions and ... it's just better off if no-one knows. Except you and your friends, of course.'

She tried not to think about Peter.

An hour later found Hermione sitting on her bed in the Girl's Dormitories, Alice across from her writing a letter to Frank.

She'd left soon after talking with James, and since there was no homework or secret research project between her and Harry and Ron for her to do, as there usually was during Christmas holidays, she was feeling a little out of place.

For lack of anything better to do, Hermione stretched and stood up. "I think I'll go for a bit of a walk before curfew," she told Alice.

The girl raised an eyebrow, her quill hovering just above her parchment. "Fifteen minutes before?"

Hermione glanced at a clock on the wall. Well, whaddaya know ...

"I'll be quick," she said, ignoring the other girl's obvious scepticism. "I just need to stretch my legs before bed. Some fresh air ..."

Alice shrugged. "Fine. But don't take too long; the rest of Gryffindor won't be too pleased if you've lost us points before term even started." Alice hesitated. "You've been told about the House Cup already, haven't you?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, Dumbledore explained it. I'll be back before curfew, promise."

Which was how Hermione found herself wandering aimlessly around Hogwarts at two in the morning. She actually had meant to get back in fifteen minutes, but as she'd approached the Fat Lady she'd seen it swing open noiselessly and heard two pairs of footsteps tiptoeing out and leaving in the direction of the Great Hall. She knew who it was: it was the full moon tonight and Remus had obviously already gone down to the Whomping Willow. She hid behind a tapestry as the two sets footsteps she knew to be James and Sirius receded into the distance quickly. For some reason the thought of the three in animagus form gallivanting around the grounds while she slept made her feel depressed so she'd turned around and resumed her wandering.

Hermione wasn't one to stay up until all hours of the morning when feeling particularly down - in fact, when still attending Hogwarts she would have sat herself down in the Common Room and knitted up a nice pair of hats for any house elves she might run into. On the run she'd been utterly exhausted all of the time - even the days they didn't do anything - so she'd either sleep fitfully or lie staring at the roof of the tent, eventually drifting off while Harry tossed and turned above her and Ron muttered darkly in his sleep.

Here, she still had to figure out where she stood. So, she wandered around until the full moon was high in the sky and the occasional wolf howl could be heard, dodging patrols through her extensive knowledge of the castle she was only just rediscovering after months of absence.

When Hermione finally slipped into bed, her feet aching and her body trembling from exercise which she wasn't altogether healthy enough to endure yet, Alice's even breathing lulling her into a restless sleep, the first light was showing outside and the birds were beginning their morning serenades.

Down in the Common Room, James and Sirius stumbled in through the portrait hole while barely managing to keep the invisibility cloak on them; partially from their ever increasing size, partially from their injuries and partially from fatigue. They tripped their way groggily upstairs and fell into bed with nary a word to each other to catch a few hours' sleep.

Out by the Whomping Willow Madam Pomfrey bustled across the grass, wet with dew, and stooped her head to gain access to the dilapidated Shrieking Shack. She gently shook Remus awake, already healing his bruises and cuts and handing him a fresh set of robes while chattering away aimlessly to distract the seventeen-year-old from the pain.

Dumbledore was sitting poised at his desk, dark circles under his eyes (which would, of course, fade by the time he made it to breakfast); his pen curling across a piece of parchment for a report for the Order while he chatted amiably with Fawkes. The Phoenix was perched on the back of an armchair, occasionally making his opinion known with a brief song or two and watching the Headmaster with shrewd eyes.

Just an ordinary morning in Hogwarts, 1977.

...Unless of course you're a time traveller, in which case it is anything _but _ordinary and instead new, fascinating and awful. Hermione did not make the time to observe any of this, however, as she was fast asleep by this stage.

Case closed.

* * *

><p>When Hermione woke it was lunch time. She stretched slowly, arching her back and revelling in the feeling of a warm, comfortable bed beneath her as opposed to the hammoks she'd been sleeping in for the past few months. The first thing she noticed was how stiff she was, but upon further inspection it seemed most of her bruises had faded to a sort of yellow-y brown and the gash across her stomach was scabbing over nicely. She must have finally be healing, she thought absently as she rose from the bed.<p>

The thought was cut short as she winced from the pain in her feet when she stood on them. She'd obviously need to rethink that whole "meandering around Hogwarts until all hours of the morning" plan if she wanted her feet to be intact when she returned to her own time. She'd rather not fight Voldemort on bloody stumps.

Making her way down to breakfast (lunch, for everyone else) she made an effort to actually look at the surrounding castle, rather than wander blindly through it as she had last night. It struck her that she hardly knew anything about this Hogwarts (although really, how different could it be?) and it irked her that there was something about _Hogwarts _- _her _Hogwarts - that she _didn't know_. She made a promise to visit the library as soon as possible to borrow out the current issue of _Hogwarts: A History_.

Alice was sitting in the Great Hall chatting to a fourth year Hufflepuff when Hermione entered. She waved her over.

"Sleeping Beauty emerges!" The blonde cried dramatically as Hermione took a seat at the table. "You took your time getting to bed last night, then?"

Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "I got a little lost," Alice clicked her tongue, "and then I didn't feel like sleeping."

"So you decided the sleep half the day away today, is that it?" Alice asked reprovingly, although there was teasing in her voice.

Hermione smiled. "You can be my personal alarm clock from now on if it will make you feel better, Alice."

Alice saluted her. "Done."

Hermione looked around the table. Dumbledore was talking to Professor Kettleburn, although the burly teacher kept sneaking glances at a woman in green robes further down, for some reason. Hermione thought that woman might be Professor Evergreen, if introductions at the first dinner were anything to go by. The quiet woman didn't exactly seem to be the CoMC professor's ideal match, but judging by the way she blushed whenever she caught him looking at her ...

Something caught her eye.

"Where are the Marauders?" Hermione asked Alice, completely forgetting the full moon after her phenominally long sleep. Their absence seemed like a hole in the atmosphere after their overwhelming presence at dinner the night before.

Alice shrugged. "It's not uncommon for them to sleep in now and again, but they're usually here relatively early. I don't know _where _they are." She leaned in conspirationally. "They're probably zonked out after staying up all night setting up a prank. If I were you, I'd be on my guard today for anything that seems as though it could backfire and shoot goo at your face."

Hermione was in the middle of chuckling to herself (what an improvement - she didn't think she'd actually chuckled in weeks!) when she suddenly remembered the full moon last night and her witness to James and Sirius' escape to go to the Whomping Willow and felt like hitting herself. _Of course ..._ She tried to look casual when she said, "Oh. Okay," and began eating, steering the conversation elsewhere.

* * *

><p>The Marauders didn't emerge from their dormitories and the Hospital Wing respectively until dinner, which Hermione only knew because she could hear their raucous laughter from where she was walking past the Hall. She skipped dinner in favour of paying the library a visit. She'd meant to go earlier that day but she'd hung out with Alice by the lake and it had completely slipped her mind. Hermione found herself enjoying Alice's company. The blonde was obviously a lovely person and when Hermione subtlely brushed off her questions about her last school and her friends and family, etc, the girl didn't push for information. They'd just talked about things of inconsequential importance, which was a fantastic change.<p>

So, Hermione entered the library at dinner time with a purpose. She immediately introduced herself to the librarian, an old woman with glasses that magnified her eyes - not unlike Professor Trelawny's - and wispy hair that reminded Hermione of Arabella Figg, who introduced herself as Madam Green. Then she set to work. There were numerous books on Time Turners, but whether or not they would prove to be helpful was another matter ...

*Three hours later*

After slamming shut what felt like the twentieth book with increasing frustration, Hermione sat back in her chair and surveyed the ancient tomes and recent textbooks strewn out before her on the table. She now knew more than she'd ever have thought possible about time: the mechanism of Turners, theories of "Gods" that controlled it (absolute nonsense, in her opinion), the first known documentations of calenders and seasons and everything else under the sun. The only problem was that absolutely none of it helped her cause. Although she supposed it didn't hurt to have a background knowledge of the subject, Hermione had only come across references to _Fatalis Intervertu _once or twice in three hours and even then they'd been obscure and had left her with more questions than answers.

This was hopeless.

Hermione returned all the books, which took her another fifteen minutes, and left the library, giving Madam Green a subdued smile on her way out. She was feeling hopelessly downhearted as she made her way back to the Common Room, trying in vain not to think of her latest failure. Researching was supposed to be her thing! But, Hermione reasoned logically, _Fatalis Intervertu _was a very rare occurence and there was hardly any information or documentation on it at all in _her _time, let alone the seventies!

As she calmed herself down in that area of thought Hermione found her mind drifting as she walked. Soon enough she was blocking out thoughts of Harry and Ron and the fact that a) they would be worried sick about her - or does time work that way at all? Would time be standing still from where she'd left, or would she have disappeared and be gone for the same amount of time she was in the past? Merlin, this was giving her a headache, or b) she could fix all their problems with just a few well placed hints to the right people along the way.

But changing time was against the rules. It was against the _rule__s_.

Hermione was just considering paying the kitchens a visit (she didn't want to support House Elf labour - _but the food_) when suddenly out of the darkness she felt a hand clamp around her elbow.

* * *

><p><strong>Sooooooo! It's been a while ... but guess what! I've managed to get two references to <em>Hogwarts: A History<em> in only four chapters! How about a round of applause! ...Or, you know, not. Whatever. **

**Can we do the unthinkable again and get five reviews? Pretty please with sugar on top? *puppydog eyes* **

**Thanks for reading, **

**Riley Erin :) **


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